The Variable of Choice
by Tucker Carroll
Summary: What if Isobel had not given Elena to the Gilbert's to adopt? What if she rememebered meeting Damon first? An alternative storyline... Stefan, Elena, Lexi, Damon, Alaric, Jenna, Jeremy, Bonnie, Caroline, Matt, Tyler, The Originals. As always, I write Stelena, but never guarantee a happy ending :
1. Chapter 1

**What if Isobel had not given Elena to the Gilbert's? What if Damon hadn't compelled away their initial meeting?**

**This is an experiment of sorts… an alternative almost to the current backstory for The Vampire Diaries. Let me know what you guys think. **

**PROLOGUE**

ELENA's POV

My eyes are unfocused, staring out of the passenger window as my life in Durham gets further and further away from me when, in a very nonchalant voice, he punctuates the last three hours of endless – and groundless- reasoning with "Jeremy needs you, Elena."

_Fine_. I think to myself, tightening the crossing of my arms over my chest and pursing my lips. _He should've started with that_, with Jeremy, because until now Ric has been unsuccessfully going on and on about why our move to Mystic Falls is a must. About how now that Aunt Miranda and Uncle Grayson are dead, Jena will need help. The schools are great, the town is historic, there's always something to do even if Mystic Falls is more of a one horse town than the epicenter of fun. He even brought up Bonnie and Caroline as pluses to leaving my entire existence, all of my real, non-summer friends. I like Bonnie Bennett and, Caroline Forbes would probably be okay if she could tone it down a notch, but the friendship that I have with them has never been anything more than summer boredom. The moment Uncle Grayson would bring me back to Ric in Durham, the three of us wouldn't speak again until May of the next year – and that's okay! That's how it's supposed to be!

Three weeks ago – the night of the bonfire, when I told them bye, we played our parts and we cried on each other shoulders like we were supposed to when giving our summers-over farewell's - no one planned on us moving to Virginia. No one planned on Uncle Grayson falling asleep at the wheel and running off of that bridge.

From the corner of my eye, I see his head turn towards me, making sure I'm not sobbing. I know Ric thinks I feel guilty about the whole thing – I mean, I was the one that ratted out on Jeremy and called his parents to come and pick him up from the bonfire, in turn leading to their death… - but the truth is I'm in this morose mood for lots of reasons. Right now, a lot of it can be attributed to snatching me out of my life and attempting to replant me in Mystic Falls, but truth is, it's been a long time since I've felt happy, or even content. I can't tell Alaric that I've been fighting depression, teenaged angst maybe, for years – he's trying so hard to be everything I need; Father, Mother, Friend, Confidant…

Alaric is great – ever since my mother brought him into my life ten years ago, Alaric has been more of a father to me than John Gilbert ever has, but I'm beginning to feel like a weight for him to bare. What handsome, single, late-thirties guy wants to be stuck with the seventeen year old daughter of their estranged wife? It's been six years since my mother, Isobel, left us and not once has he dated. Not a single date… nothing. Trust me, there have been plenty of advances from other teachers and some of my friends moms too, even Isobel's co-workers at Duke, but he just gives them that 'not interested' smile that he has and walks away. It doesn't take a genius to see that he's not dating because of me – Elena Gilbert, the spur in the saddle of Alaric Saltzman.

"And that guy you liked… Mark?"

I roll my eyes, reaching into the messenger bag between my feet and blindly feeling around until the cord of my earbuds is tangled with my fingers. "Matt." I hate how my voice sounds so crass, rude even, with just a single syllable, but I am angry about this whole situation… and yes, fine, I feel guilty about putting Jeremy in the same orphaned state as me. Pulling my phone and earbuds into my lap, focusing on untangling the cord as a way to avoid the heavy weight against my chest that seems to increase every time I think of my bratty phone call to tell on Jeremy, I clarify. "I dated Matt Donovan for a month, more than a year ago. I don't like him."

I hear Alaric exhale a bit, obviously relaxing now that I'm not curled up into a tight, pissy ball in the passenger seat, ignoring him and staring at the colorful fall foliage instead of joining in on the one-sided conversation he's been working on since Durham. Those few words about Matt – it's the first thing I've said to him all day.

Scrolling through my Itunes list, my thumb is just about to select Maroon5 when Alaric says with a suppressed chuckle, "Then maybe you'll run into that vampire, again?"

I can't stop my glare. I hope Ric can feel my eyes burning into the side of his unshaven face. "I'm not like her, Ric." When I told Alaric about the guy I met at the bonfire – Damon – I regretted it instantly. Initially, he didn't say anything, he just listened to me confess about meeting a vampire, but I could see the pity in his eyes… I could almost read his _obsessed, just like her mother _thoughts.

Already upset, I'd been crying for what felt like days. All the way through the double funeral, most of the drive from Mystic Falls. Finally home, I was sitting on my bed and paging through my mother's research when Alaric caught me off guard - I don't think I had any tears left inside of me or I would have still been crying about Uncle Grayson and Aunt Miranda, crying for Jeremy. I blame it on the fatigue and the grief, the way I opened up to him and told him that I wanted to find her, find my mother – since the morning I woke up and realized that she'd left me, I've wanted to find her. It's a horrible feeling, very hopeless and needy to want to find someone who isn't lost – someone who left you and someone who is purposely hiding from your searches. But when I saw him, Damon, the vampire that I met at the bonfire while waiting on Aunt Miranda and Uncle Grayson, I knew it was the same Damon that my mother mentioned over and over in her research. Damon Salvatore – lover of, and turned by, Katherine Pierce.

"Elena," He sighs through a half smile, amused. "I'm sorry."

"I told you that in confidence, Alaric. Not for you to poke fun at me."

Adjusting in the drivers seat, Alaric switches hands on the steering wheel, exhaling loudly as he tries to come up with a response that doesn't make him sound like a condescending jerk. "I know. It was just an ill-placed joke."

With a roll of my eyes, I turn away from my step-father and begin my endless staring into the nothingness moving by us as seventy miles per hour, pretending to be listening to music in my earbuds when in reality there is nothing but silence –I don't feel like music and I don't want to talk to him about this, or anything else for the moment. I love Alaric, but he doesn't understand… no one does. No one knows what it's like to be completely and utterly alone, guilty.

I'm replaying my memory of Damon – how he called me Katherine, flirted with me a bit, then attempted to compel me. That's what sold him out. He wasn't scary, or extremely pale, or barring fangs; in truth he was nothing like all of the ancient tales of vampires warn of. Damon is really good looking and he emits this cool-guy aura – but it was the long look into my eyes as he tried to take over my mind and force me to forget meeting him that gave him away. I almost messed up – it took me a moment to realize what he was doing, _to realize what he was!_ and I nearly reacted. Thankfully, the hours and hours I spent reading through my mother's research took over and I gave him a complacent nod just before he sped away.

Alaric's voice startles me even though I don't give a visible reaction in the slightest, "Isobel, her research… Elena, it's all fairytales and make believe." I turn to look at him, his eyes on the road in front of us, brow slightly furrowed as he talks in his fatherly tone of voice. "Vampires aren't real, no matter what her research suggested. I think, after awhile, Isobel wanted to believe in those legends so badly that she let it skew the results."

It's the teenager in me that wants to give a snarky response, call him out on the duffel bag full of wooden stakes, ask about the herbal tea that he's basically forced me to drink since the morning I woke up an abandoned eleven year old girl. The only thing that stops me from taking this tense conversation into a full-on argument is the gentle sadness that I spot on his face.

I'm not the only one she left.

STEFAN's POV

I hear his footsteps first. That's what woke me. I got in to town very late, probably no more than four hours ago and have since been asleep in my bed for the second time in less than a month after a decade away.

Before I can make it from my bed and into the hall, I smell the blood and the instant reaction of aching gums and veining eyes feels incredible, my throat stinging for the iron-rich warmth, stopping me in my tracks – my hands curl around the door frame; a deficient way of keeping me in place.

"Brother." Damon says, his greeting to me in a sly tone as he crests the staircase, his fully-vamped face smiling at me as he shoves one of the two bleeding blond co-eds into my arms. "No need to thank me. I got us breakfast, you get lunch."

I haven't laid eyes on my brother in close to fifty years. I wish I could say it's been that long since I've had human blood – both my brother's face and my reaction to the puncture holes at the curve of this girls neck have not changed. Holding this name-less girl by her small shoulders, I stare at the seeping blood for a long while, sensing Damon's eyes on me as I consider a taste – just a small drink, a sip of her. My mouth is watering and my muscles are tensing, fangs barred and head aching; as badly as I want to my humanity will not allow it, so I give her a gentle shove onto the floor and turn away from Damon's disappointed expression. "I can't."

"Sure you can." Damon says just before I hear him bite into his breakfast – a whimpering from the girl runs through my body and I wish I had the kind of restraint Damon has.

I'm sure that's a strange thought – he's drinking blood from an innocent human girl's artery, has already fed off the girl that he brought for me, and yet, I consider that to be disciplined and controlled. I hope that gives you some insight into just how brutal and savage I am, how vicious my thirst for human blood can be when I give in to it.

In an attempt to change the subject and force my thoughts away from the crimson red contrasting against the girls creamy, white skin, I shut my eyes tightly as I ask, "Is this why you called me here, Damon? After half a century, you ask me to meet you in Mystic Falls for the sole purpose of testing my will power?"

I squeeze my eyes together tighter, sure that Damon is well aware of my near failing self-control from the gravel in my voice as I spoke. Caught off guard like this, as I was when he called me up less than a week ago with his vague invitation, I find it difficult to put up a front with Damon – he was once my best friend, someone I looked up to, and when I'm ill-prepared I fall back into that role almost instinctively.

With my back to Damon and his two victims, I'm cursing myself for letting my voice give me away. I'm berating myself for wanting to join my brother for breakfast, for finding pleasure in my dark thoughts of blood and pleading and cries and useless struggles within my grip. I don't want to be this man – I've fought every minute of every day to not be this monster, but it's been 162 years since I turned and with just the scent of human blood my war within my own body is nearly lost.

He doesn't answer me, instead he speaks to the girl I'm trying so very hard not to kill. "Come on, stand up." Damon coos, "Let's leave my baby bro to brood."

At the sound of his bedroom door shutting, I open my eyes and decide I need to hunt – animal blood is a terrible replacement for taste, but at least the fire in my chest and gut will be pacified for a while. Lexi should be here by noon and I'd like to at the very least appear as though I've got my hunger under control by the time my mentor, my very best and only friend, arrives.

She doesn't trust Damon.

Lexi thinks this out of the blue, let's get together summons from my brother has something to do with his promise of making my life hell for eternity… inhaling the scent of flowing blood coming from his room I can't help but believe she may be right.

Still, I couldn't tell him no.

When Damon called and told me he needed my help, there were a million reasons that kept me from turning him down, rejecting his invitation; he's my brother, until he topped the staircase I hadn't seen him since the sixties, coming home to Mystic Falls was appealing, I hadn't seen Zach since 1999, I was curious even… but more than anything else, I couldn't turn Damon down because I missed him.

I've got Lexi – she means a lot to me, probably more than anyone else in the world – but since I've been keeping it together pretty well the last couple of decades she and I have been spending more and more time apart and the loneliness leads me deeper into my regret. It's hard, living forever, watching everyone you care for die… even worse when you're alone like I am, alone and riddled with guilt.

Stepping out into the bright morning sunlight, I shake my head to rid myself of the thoughts that plague me – My father, Katherine, forcing my will when turning Damon, all of my victims. There is something about today – the warmth of the late summer day or maybe it's the feeling of security I find when I'm here, at the Salvatore house, back in my hometown – something feels different.

Inhaling the scent of the day – damp grass and honeysuckle, pine trees and soil – I feel my lips curve upwards, the foreign feeling of a smile upon my face.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1 – The Variable of Choice

It doesn't take long to learn the rhythm of Mystic Falls. I guess it's part of the charm of a small town, how nothing changes and you know what to expect by the weather. If it's nice out, the square will have a boot camp class early in the morning with new mom's and middle-aged men jumping and squatting and running in place. By lunch, all of the small shops would be teaming and by night fall, some festival or town gathering would be getting into full swing. I've been here just over a week and there have been two town functions in less than twelve days. I guess being in this small town is getting to me, because where I would normally find that off-putting, I attended both and had a really fun time with Bonnie. Next week is a gathering in the square to watch some comet – don't laugh, but I'm actually kind of excited!

With the rain and humidity of late summer, any last minute plans of heading out to the falls or going for a swim in Wickery Creek today have been canceled. School starts up in a couple of days so it's a given that The Grille, the local hangout for pretty much everyone interested in seeing and/or being seen, will be bustling from open to close – the age of the customers gets younger as the day goes on; starting with the older residents of Mystic Falls enjoying coffee and breakfast, and ending with a medley of patrons looking for a game of pool, adult drinks in adult looking glasses, and if they happen to be interested, a hook up.

That's why I'm here.

Not a hook up, but I've been searching for Damon Salvatore every single day since Ric and I moved to Mystic Falls and I feel like tonight, the last Saturday before summer ends, if he's going to be anywhere, he'll be here. Bonnie noticed the special attention that I've paid to my appearance – I think this is the first time that I've put on make up since we got to town. What she doesn't know is I drank three large glasses of Alaric's herbal tea and I have a wooden stake from his stash in my bag… I don't want to kill him, but I have a sinking suspicion that Damon is not going to be happy to know that I'm looking for him.

Isobel's research was pretty clear about Damon – he's a loose cannon. He's violent and unforgiving and doesn't think twice about killing. So, no, I don't want to stake him – I just want to know if he knows anything about what happened to my mother –the herbal tea and the stake are in case he decides that he wants to kill me. I think Bonnie has also noticed my nerves – they're out of control, my hands shaking as I bring my Dr. Pepper to my mouth for a sip. When I see her brow furrow, her hazel eyes watching my tremoring fingers, I quickly sit the glass down and put both of my hands in my lap.

"Do you want me to tell him to quit staring at you?" She asks, twirling a french fry into the vat of ketchup we're sharing. Confused by her question, I frown at her and look around the full restaurant – unsure of who she's referring to and both hoping and fearing that she's talking about a medium height, dark haired, blue eyed vampire. "He's harmless, Elena…" Bonnie adds as my wide, nervous eyes land on Matt Donovan cleaning off a table and staring at me like a wounded puppy. "Matt is a really good guy – maybe a little intense."

I give him a smile that I hope says _hey there friend_ -and -_sorry I left town without telling you bye last summer and for not answering any of your calls since_.

Matt is a really attractive guy – he's got that hometown hero, future college football jock look down to a t without any effort of all, and Bonnie is right, Matt is a good guy – but there's just no spark. I've spent my entire life reading about epic romances and undying love, about that instant connection of soulmates…

I'm probably spoiled and I'm sure it's partly because I'm seventeen and still immature, believing in things like fate and destiny and _the one_, but that's what I'm looking for. That's what I want… and as of now, I can't imagine accepting anything less.

So yea, Matt is cute and he's nice, and I know my Aunt Miranda loved him as she is the one who set us up – I'm just not that interested. Still, I shouldn't have been so rude…

"I'm going to go talk to him." I say to Bonnie as I slip out of the booth, pushing my hair behind my ears and planning out an apology in my mind – something that shows that I mean it but leaves no doubt as to where he and I stand… friends, nothing more.

Matt gives me his patent, "Hey" when I finally make it through the thick crowd – I just smile, nervous I guess. It doesn't take long for me to see his expression change –from forlorn and probably angry at me for ignoring him to an easy smile and a hopeful gaze. "Sorry about- you know, you're Aunt and Uncle."

It's been a full month now, but Jeremy and I can't go anywhere without someone in town stopping us to give their condolences – it seems like the next thing is always some version of _Lucky you didn't ride back with them, Elena _–or – _We're so glad you managed to swim to shore, Jeremy._

I purse my lips together and watch a couple people squeeze by us as Matt finishes the script – "I'm just glad Jeremy managed to get out of that car and that you rode home with Bonnie."

It's weird to have someone tell you that they're glad someone else died and not you – especially when the deaths that did occur are your fault – so I just nod a silent _thanks._

After a pause that feels long enough to appropriately change the subject, I take two of the half-empty glasses from the table and put them in his busser-bucket. "I wanted to apologize to you, for last summer," keeping my eyes on the table, I stack the plates as I speak. "It was really rude of me to not call you back."

"It's fine, I mean – there wasn't much of a chance of us working out with you living in Durham anyway."

Ignoring his ploy – trying to feel out if there is much chance of us working out now that I live in Mystic Falls – I accentuate my words when I say, "Still, I'm sorry. _Friends_ shouldn't treat each other that way."

Finally looking up at him, I get this weird frequency in my chest – like a soft vibration through my lungs when I look at his face. It's strange and kind of warm, but it makes it difficult for me to breathe – I step back in hopes of putting some distance in-between us and maybe easing the tension in my chest but it seems to get worse. We stand there like that – me holding a stack of dirty dishes and looking at his face and trying to remember if I've ever felt this increasing vibe before – when a hand gently touches the back of my arm - Maybe it's the surprise of being touched, but I swear I feel a current of electricity course through my entire body, dissipating once it's runs through my toes and into the floor.

"Excuse me." A soft, tenor voice says in just over a whisper as he passes behind me, his fingers slipping from my skin and leaving me in a tense, overheated, frozen stance.

It's like a magnetic pull, the way my eyes leave Matt's tan face and light blue eyes, following the back of the head of the guy that touched my arm as he moves towards the bar, easily weaving through the mass of people. It's like the crowd parts for him and I notice the many other girls turning to watch him pass – oddly, I don't like it, the other eyes on the stranger.

Matt is talking – saying something… I have no idea what though as my brain is imprinting the way this stranger moves with a confident swagger. How his shoulders are perfectly square and the muscles of his back roll beneath the light gray shirt he's wearing as he pulls off a dark brown leather jacket, laying it over the bar stool as he takes a seat. I can't tell you what Matt is saying, but if you wanted to know about the black boots or the dark blue Diesel jeans that hang on the strangers hips in such a sexy, nearly indecent way that I feel my mouth water… I could tell you about that in precise detail. I can tell you that he ordered an imported beer as he sat a hardback book on the bar, took his white Iphone from his back pocket, and about how the way he leans onto the bar, resting on his elbows, makes his well-formed triceps cut into a sculpted, _please let me touch your arms _kind of position.

I don't know how long I spend looking at him – staring at him, imagining what it would feel like to touch his golden, wheat colored hair or have that soft, deep voice speaking directly into my ear – but Matt breaks my daydreaming by taking the stack of plates from my hands and saying my name in a way that makes me believe he's said it more than once while I was lost in overzealous musings of the strangers arms and the v-shape of his torso.

My face reddens when Matt follows my gaze – "Do you know Stefan?"

_Stefan._ "Stefan?" Even his name feels good to say.

Adjusting the bussing bucket, now full with the contents of the table, Matt says, "He's new to town. I think he's Lexi's brother – the bartender Mike hired a few days ago."

I watch a bit longer, hoping he will turn around and let me get a look at his face, but after what I know is much too long of a time spent staring at Stefan, possible brother of new bartender Lexi, I run my fingers over my forehead and shut my eyes in an attempt to gather my thoughts. When I finally turn my attention back to Matt, I have nothing to say as I cannot remember what we were talking about.

"Looks like Bonnie is getting to know the other new guy." Matt says in a half-grunt, lifting the over-full bucket as he nods his head towards our table. "That guy is a dick."

Good hearted Matt Donovan calling someone a dick is something like Mother Teresa not refusing to give a blessing – I can't help but smile out of shock as I turn in place to see who has found themselves on the very short list of people Matt doesn't care for.

Damon Salvatore.

He's in all black just like he was the night he tried to compel me to forget him – same messy hair, same smug smile. I've spent almost two weeks hoping to find him so I could locate my mother. Now that he's here, maybe twenty feet away, sitting in my booth, talking to my friend, taking a French fry from my plate, I'm stuck in place for a long moment.

What's my plan again? I can't remember anything that I read about him – I can't recall any part of my 'find Isobel' strategy! Bonnie is laughing right along with Damon. Obviously attracted to him, she does her head down, shoulder's hunched, giggle as he displays a full mouth of pearly, white teeth - fangs.

That's all I can think – it's all my mind can picture! How his seemly normal teeth could pierce through my skin, Bonnie's skin! How he would drink our blood and leave our bodies empty and lifeless. Vampires are monsters – that I remember. I'll never forget that.

"Are you alright?" Matt asks, concerned about the fearful look on my face and ridged body as my minds eye pictures Damon biting my neck.

A shudder runs through me as I respond automatically, "I'm fine", and Damon's ice blue eyes move from giggling Bonnie to my much less cheerful face.

Maybe it's having his eyes on me again – just like the first time we met they are clear and, even from this distance, they feel cold – but my legs start moving and something inside of me catches fire as I get ahold of myself and my plan to use him to find Isobel.

Damon only looks away from me for a small moment as he whispers something to Bonnie from across the table. By the time I make it to the booth, his cold blue stare has moved up and down my body twice – I have no idea if it's due to the extra attention I paid to choosing the red tank top and blue jean skirt and curling the ends of my hair in order to look more like Katherine, or if maybe he's just hungry and I'm the equivalent of a cheeseburger.

"Elena, hey!" Bonnie says in a forced nonchalant tone – with Damon's eyes on me, Bonnie gives a large grin with her eyebrows raised, mouthing 'So hot!' as she nods towards him. "This is Damon Salvatore, he's new to town."

"Well, kind of – I'm a returning citizen of Mystic Falls." Damon winks at me, then wiggles his eyebrows in this playful kind of way at Bonnie. I swear, if she were made of metal she would have melted! Extending his hand to me, I have to force my elbow to bend and my hand to meet his – I don't know what I'm expecting to feel when I touch him, but I go numb the moment Damon asks, "I swear we've met before."

It's a challenge. He's testing me. Checking to see if his compulsion took.

The newly found fire inside of me takes over and I slip into the booth next to Bonnie after a very quick, light handshake and smile, "I don't think so. I just moved to town."

With one last look, Damon's eyes narrow for a moment as if he's inspecting me for defaults – a crack in the armor that I'm holding. I don't know how I'm managing such a cool and collected exterior, smiling and looking up at him through my eyelashes, because internally I'm a mess. My breathing is much too rapid and shallow, my heart rate is off the charts – if my fingers weren't clutching the vinyl fabric of the booth seat I know my hands would be shaking.

"Elena just moved here from Durham with her step-dad." Bonnie offers, nudging me with her shoulder. I wonder if she notices how stiff my body is when I don't budge at all.

To be honest, I'm terrified.

Isobel may have been obsessed with vampires and witchcraft and whatever a doppelganger is, but personally, I want no part in any of that. Having Damon Salvatore, a true vampire, sitting across from me and eyeing Bonnie and I may as well be a nightmare.

Swallowing hard as Damon's eyes finally move back to Bonnie – satisfied with my demeanor I guess – I remind myself that I just need to get him talking about Isobel. I'll befriend him, gain his trust, and then I'll get the information I need before I tell Alaric. Maybe he'll believe me about Damon being a vampire once I have some actual information about my mother to share with him.

"So tell me again, about your family history, I mean." Damon's voice is very sly, almost like he's selling magic beans. "I've always believed Witchcraft was just an old ghost story in Mystic Falls."

"No, my Grams is totally serious!" Bonnie giggles, inhaling deeply when Damon grazes his fingers over the top of her hand – I cringe at the sight and my breathing stops. I force my lungs back to regular order when Damon's eyes cut at me. There's no way he knows that seeing him touch her is making me ill, but the timing coincidence scared me straight nonetheless.

It goes on quite a while like that – Bonnie talking about her family's ideas on witchcraft and Damon paying lots of attention to Bonnie and intermittently stealing a look at me. All the while, I'm trying to figure out my first play, how I'm going to bring up my mom's name – every time I think of something, my heartbeat races, Damon glares at me with a cool smile, and my mouth gets a bit drier. "The Bennett Witches are apparently quite historical in this town." Bonnie's lighthearted tease at her grandmother's beliefs lightens the mood a bit.

Finally finding an opening, I'm just about to say something about Isobel's research finding a lot about the Bennett's in Salem but Damon cuts me off and his eyes cut into me when he says, "I've heard the same about the vampires."

STEFAN's POV

Vampire.

That word, even when spoken in a normal tone of voice in a crowded bar with some Usher song blaring from the Bose speakers, - for Lexi and I, it's the same as a gunshot in the middle of a quiet, upper-middle class suburban neighborhood.

Lexi was in the middle of shaking a very dry martini and I was starting the fourth act of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, where Brutus and Cassius have their dispute, when we caught it – Damon's voice is light and maybe just the slightest bit threatening, but Lexi's round eyes find mind from the other end of the bar immediately.

I can see her questions on her face – What is he doing? Why is your brother talking about vampires?

With a light shrug, I play it cool as I take a sip of my beer to prolong my slow turn on the barstool. Damon is facing me, sitting at a booth with two girls and he's giving them what is supposed to be a charming smile, but I know it to be aggressive.

Somehow, Damon knows I'm looking at him – scolding him from afar – and his smile widens when he gives me a quick nod as I focus in on the conversation he's leading with the two girls. At first it's just the African-American girl laughing and a bit of nervous breathing by the soft-curls brunette – I wonder if Damon realizes that the she's scared of him? I can almost feel it, her fear, and to tell you the truth it's angering me that my brother continues to tease her. "What's the matter? _You_ aren't a vampire, _are you_?"

She shakes her head no and her pulse must be atleast 180 beats per minute – it's really pounding now.

Damon has to hear it! He's right across from her while I'm fifteen yards away and it's loud in my ears! "Surely I don't have a beautiful witch _and _asexy vampire sharing a plate of fries with me." Accentuating his words, Damon reaches for a fry but the movement of his hand towards the brunette makes her jump. Seeing her slender shoulders tense, watching her flinch away from my brother, I fight off the urge to go to the table and remove Damon from his seat. The other girl, the one Damon called a witch, seems to be enjoying Damon's company – laughing and leaning onto the table top, but the brunette's heart rate is off the charts now. It's the shivering inhale that does it though, that makes me sit my beer down and stand from my seat.

I don't know this girl, I don't think I've ever seen her before, but there's just something about her – maybe it's her lithe body or the sound of her precious, human life - lungs breathing and her heart beating, but I don't like that she's scared.

Damon's eyes move to me, narrowed and on fire, as my body weight moves to my feet, standing tall and slightly bowed up with anger – his stare is a warning for me to stay away and let him be – but I can't. I won't.

My brother and I haven't shared a home in one hundred and fifty years, so I can't tell you if he's binging or if killing eight girls in less than two weeks is his norm, but the brunette will not be another notch on his body count.

"Stefan." I start to step forward, moving to confront Damon – to interrupt his plan of killing her – when Lexi's hand grabs my forearm somewhat forcefully, pulling me back to the barstool. "Where are you going?" I love Lexi – I owe her so much and if I'm being honest, she's the only person on the face of the Earth that knows me and that I trust, but I can't help the angry glare I give her when I turn to look at her. I don't know why she cares that I'm going to stop Damon, but it goes all over her me, her budding in on this. "You can't leave and let him do this _again!_" Adding in a much quieter voice – so quiet only a predator with sensitive hearing could pick up. "It's going to be 1864 all over again if he doesn't reign it in a bit."

Exhaling the breath I didn't know I was holding as I come to realize that Lexi and I are, as always, on the same side, I nod and start to tell her that I'm going to take care of it now when I catch the girls voice – I know it's her voice without looking. I can't tell you how I know it, or why the sound of it flows through me in a sensation akin to a cool breeze against warm skin – but I have to resist the urge to close my eyes and enjoy the feeling rolling through me with each syllable. "I need to go to the ladies, Bonnie, come with me?"

"I'm fine." Bonnie responds, the smile on her face can be heard in her voice.

She has barely finished her words before the brunette begins a quick walk towards the restrooms, slipping her messenger bag on her shoulder as she takes wide strides through the crowd. I try to spot her face but her long, chestnut hair may as well be a privacy veil as she moves further away from me with her eyes on the floor and head tilted down.

Mixed up in my own thoughts of how badly I want to see her face, how I'd love to hear her voice – especially hear her say my name – and how odd it is that I'm craving such things from a human girl that I've never met, I nearly miss Damon's quickly delivered compulsion.

Lexi hears it too – Damon compelling Bonnie to go outside with him – so as Damon is leading a mind-controlled human girl, a teenager by the looks of it, to her death, I chug down my beer for a bit of liquid courage. Damon is older than me, in human year's at least, and the last time my brother and I fought he got the best of me. With him splurging on human blood and me sticking to my animal blood commitment, I know I'm about to get my ass kicked – but I'll be able to distract him long enough to save the girls friend.

"I'm going." I wave to Lexi – not to tell her bye, but to let her know I'm handling it – then sit my empty beer glass down next to my book on the bar and head towards the exit.

ELENA's POV

I knew it. I knew he was going to take Bonnie!

Standing just inside the hall that leads to the restroom doors, I watch as Bonnie dutifully walks infront of Damon out of the safe, crowded Mystic Grille and into the desolate, cool night.

Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I drop my bag on the ground and squeeze the stake in my hand tightly with my fist – praying I have the strength to do this. Vampire or no – I've never killed anyone.

Closing in on the exit as I move through the crowd nearest the wall, I realize I've never even been in a fight! I've never punched anyone yet here I am, stake in hand, ready to kill a vampire?

I can feel the panic in me start to rise, fight to take over and what I really want to do is walk out of the exit door and keep going – keep walking. I want to go right back to my new bedroom and curl up in the safety of my covers and forget what I know . Forget that Bonnie is somewhere out there with a vampire! Forget that there are vampires! Forget that my mother was most likely killed by the same vampire who is now feeding on Bonnie!

But I can't. I'm just not that person – I don't give up and I don't hide. I fight for those that I love.

With much more confidence that I actually have, I push the door open and step out into the night – the sound of my boots on the concrete sounds hollow for some reason.

For a long moment, there's nothing – I see Dana and Chad kissing against her mom's minivan across the street, I can still hear the music from inside of the Grille, a pickup passes by… then finally I hear Bonnie's laugh. You have no idea how thankful I am to hear her – alive, not crying or screaming, but still laughing! It doesn't take long for me to track where they are – Jeremy and I used to play tic-tac-toe on the concrete walls of the basement entrance allyway into Uncle Grayson's office building – I'd know that echo anywhere!

That fire in my gut – the same one that led me away from Matt and back to the table with Damon and Bonnie in the first place – it's blazing hot and I'm moving quickly, my boots clacking against the sidewalk as I close the distance, fingers so tight around the stake that the wood is painfully pressing into my skin as I turn down the concrete stairs.

It's so quick – I don't even see him! I can only feel his fingers wrap around my throat and his hand grip my wrist vicelike – forcing me to drop the stake as Damon captures me in his hold; the next thing I know I am being pressed against the cold concrete walls with my toes barely touching the ground and blood red eyes staring directly into mine. I should be paying attention to my surroundings, trying to scream for help, kicking and punching at him! But I'm frozen – his cold eyes are paralyzing. They're violent – his blue eyes surrounded by blood are lightless and emotionless and truly disturbing. I don't know how long it is until I realize those pearly white teeth I'd imagined biting into my neck are no longer human like – two, razor sharp fangs elongated from his gums and his upper lip snarled back just enough to show them off.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions and I suggest you tell me the truth. You're sweet little heartrate sold you out, so don't expect to get away with any more lies." He nods, inhaling through his nose and black veins pulsate beneath the skin of his cheeks. "Who else knows?"

I try to remember if I mentioned his name to Jeremy during our hypothetical vampire conversation a few nights ago – he was going through some of the Gilbert journals that my father, John, found in Uncle Grayson's things and I think we both wanted to laugh it off as nothing. Something told me that Jeremy knows more than he's letting on, but I didn't say anything about my knowledge of Damon and Jeremy didn't tell me whatever he knew either.

"No." I croak out, barely able to speak. Damon's fingers loosen up just a bit, enough for my vocal chords to make audible sounds. "no one."

Narrowing his eyes, Damon smirks at me, "Lie."

I shake my head no, I'm not lying – I'm not! I push at chest with my freehand but it's like trying to make a brick wall move away, completely useless. "Who else? Don't lie to me, Elena. I'm much too hungry to let it go again."

_Alaric_. I told Alaric.

Damon's fingers squeeze tighter, even tighter than before, as if he's trying to force words from my throat – but I can't tell him about Ric. I know he'll kill him. Ric is all I have left.

"Fine." Damon gives a wicked grin and I have to look away, my eyes finding Bonnie standing just to the left of Damon looking as though she's in some kind of a trance – compulsion. "Let's do it your way."

It's ten times more painful that I had imagined – having fangs pierce through the skin at the curve of my neck – and I scream, but something about tensing the muscles in my throat required to scream just makes it hurt worse and it comes out as a high pitched whimper. Each pull, a large swallow for him, stings down my arm and chest – just as my fingers and toes start to feel numb, probably from blood loss, Damon pulls away. Foringe me to look at him again, I feel like I might throw up at the sight of him with my blood on his mouth and coating his teeth.

Then I'm falling.

I hit the concrete floor hard as I don't have much strength left in my legs – crumpling into a ball and watching Damon's body hit the opposite wall hard as a pair of dark blue jeans and black boots steps in front of me – protecting me.

**MORE TO COME – Let me know what you think! Feel free to leave a comment or follow/tweet me IChooseStefan**

**THANKS FOR READING!**


	3. Chapter 3

The Variable of Choice – CH 3

-STEFAN-

"Oh. Come. On!" Damon stretches out each word in a dramatic sort of way, making it back to his feet and wiping blood from his grinning mouth with the back of his hand.

Keeping one eye on him and my body squarely between my brother and the brunette he's just attacked, I look over Bonnie for any sign of blood or injury – other than the void stare from compulsion, she seems unharmed.

When I inhale to respond, I catch the scent of the girls blood and my thirst can be seen on my face as the veins beneath my eyes begin to surface and my aching throat makes my voice sound raw, "You can't keep doing this, Damon. You're going to get us killed!"

Clenching my jaw, I do my best to will away my want, my hunger.

"They already know!" I frown at him – of course they know, he just drank her blood. "I was trying to get her to talk before you rudely interrupted us." Damon's voice is insistent, but light – he can never be serious, my brother, always making a joke of the most grave situations. My expression must tell him I need more information as he continues without me speaking. "Until a few weeks ago when I replaced it with rosemary, this whole town was on vervain! And here's the kicker – they were all supplied by our dear nephew."

Zach.

When I was home a few weeks back, he hadn't mentioned going out of town, but I believed Damon's story of Zach going to see some friends from college once he came into town – Zach doesn't care for either of us, but at least with me he has a small sense of security that I won't kill him… Damon on the other hand...

"What did you do?" My words are quiet, yet accusatory.

He doesn't have to respond – the gleam in his eyes gives him away as his mind retrieves the memory of killing our last remaining family member.

The anger inside of me grows a bit stronger, tempting me to charge my stigmatic sibling – but my body won't allow it - flexing every muscle to a steel-like tension in order to keep me in place. I won't leave this girls side. She's still alive, inhaling shaking breaths through chattering teeth.

After a long moment of fisting my hands at my sides, I've pushed my anger back down to a manageable level. "Then we need to leave. You and I need to get outta dodge. Compel them to forget this happened and let's go."

Straightening his jacket, Damon waits to respond as we both listen to a couple of humans – with their soft lungs and delectable heart beats – passing by on the street above us. When they've finally gone by, he looks back to my face and wiggles his eyebrows like he does. "Won't work. The vervain is still in her system. I could taste it. It's barely there but compulsion won't take."

A little confused, a little concerned that someone is going to start wondering where these two teenage girls have gone, I ask "What about the rosemary?"

Shrugging, Damon sighs, "Makes you wonder how long she's been on it." I know what he's going to say before he actually releases the words and I turn to the side a bit, just enough to be able to efficiently block him should he try and move past me, "The only option is to kill her."

"No." Shaking my head, I look to Bonnie, still holding that void expression, then back to Damon who is eyeing the girl behind me like she's a delicacy. The curiosity gets the best of me and I follow his gaze with the turn of my head.

She's smaller than I thought – maybe it's because she's hugging her knees to her chest and that long, dark hair is falling at her sides like a cloak. It hurts me to see her shivering with fear, to hear her trying to suppress her cries. I don't realize until much later how odd that is – my concern for this stranger. "No. We'll take her home and keep her there until she dries out."

"You are no fun anymore, brother." The girl can't have but a minuscule amount of vervain in still in her as Damon was able to drink from her; though the mess of blood on his face makes more sense now that I know her blood was probably a struggle to swallow – something like the burn of alcohol, I'd imagine. Damon snarks at me, but doesn't argue – I just roll my eyes at him and do my best not to throw more demands at him as he grabs Bonnie much too-roughly by her upper arms and gives me a wide, strange smile. Turning my attention to the brunette, I squat in front of her, releasing an annoyed sigh when Damon says, "Just like old times, huh? The Salvatore brothers, bringing a couple of girls home." then speeds away with Bonnie.

Now that we're alone I feel an odd need to touch her – my hand even goes to her, my fingers nearly touch her forearm, but I pull away just short. She's terrified. She's bloody. I'm a vampire.

"I won't hurt you." It's all I've got.

She's heard the conversation with my vampire brother who has just attacked her, she knows the plan – taking her, kidnapping her. I hope she doesn't put up a fight when I say, "You'll need to come with me. Just until the vervain is out of your system."

Sniffling, she asks, "And then what?" With her head still resting on her forearms, her voice is muffled.

My fingers are still tingling in hopes of being able to touch her, but at this point I can't tell if it's an eager desire to satisfy my thirst or just to slip through the length of her hair. The smell of her blood and her racing heart rate are inviting, but I can't get past her trembling body – I hate myself for terrifying her so and the guilt is drowning out my hunger. In hopes of calming her, I take a step away, turn my attention elsewhere as I'm confident having me observing her is slowing the process. "Then you go home." I've barely released the words before I spot the stake at the bottom of the concrete stairs. I'm staring at it, confused and trying to figure out how this girl knew about vampires in order to be prepared with a weapon when I feel her eyes on me.

I give her a moment - let her believe she's inspecting me without my knowledge.

"Home?" She asks, a reluctant chime of hope in her tone gives me a strange sense of pride as I bend at the waist and retrieve her stake.

I hold it in my fist for a bit; taking note of its well-defined point and comfortable grip – whomever carved this weapon was no amateur – all the while I can feel her looking at me, hear her heart rate slowing and her breathing becoming more rhythmic. Once I'm confident that she's calmed, I turn in place to face her.

Now it is me who is breaths in a shaking breath.

It's not just her blood and her beautiful heartbeat, there's something else… something I cannot explain… but I know without a shadow of a doubt that the woman now moving to her feet and clutching to her bleeding neck is not Katherine Pierce.

Still, I'm caught off guard, taken aback, stunned – she's an exact and complete replica of the vampire that destroyed me so many years ago. From her round, nearly colorless eyes to the pout of her perfect lips, even the daintiness of her wrists…

"I'm not Katherine." She says to me in a firm voice, furrowing her brow at me as if she's as disgusted by the thought as I am.

Swallowing hard, I blink – leaving my eyes closed for a bit longer than normal in an attempt to get ahold of myself and clear my mind of the images of Katherine. Opening them, finding this girls perfect face and captivating eyes looking at me seems to do a better job of riding me of those memories. Still, I have to look away; remind myself of what I am and what this girl is and how the fluttering in my chest means nothing and can lead to nothing… _nothing, Stefan… let it go._

Extending my arm to her with the stake in my hand, I keep my eyes on the ground, "I know."

-ELENA-

I don't know what I was expecting.

He's a vampire. He's a monster, an abomination… demonic. I guess I thought his 'home' would be in a cave or under a bridge somewhere. Or maybe in the graveyard. It's ridiculous I know, but when our wordless drive from The Grille led us to this very beautiful, grand mansion on the outskirts of town, I was very surprised.

He opened my door for me!

It didn't seem like it was threatening, or like he was doing it in a way to control me, but I just can't buy that the vampire that kidnapped me and took my cell phone is chivalrous.

Though I could feel Stefan look at me a couple of times during the drive, we've been silent since he told me that he knew I wasn't Katherine. I keep looking into the rooms that we pass, the kitchen, the den, the dining area – everything seems so normal. It's a beautiful, turn of the century home filled with antiques and leather couches and earthy tones – reaching the stairs, he gestures for me to lead and I hold my breath as I pass him.

In the car, I could smell him – this warm, inviting, clean scent. I keep thinking it's some kind of trick to get humans to like them, let them get close to us. Probably the same thing that's going on with his eyes. Every time I mistakenly look at his eyes I feel less threatened, less scared. They're this amazing green – somewhere between a fresh blade of grass and evergreen… a perfect, warm shade of green.

I get a few steps in front of Stefan before he begins to climb the stairs as well, it may be my imagination but I think I feel him looking me over – it bothers me a bit. Not him looking at me, but my reaction – standing straighter, pulling my shoulders back, accentuating the movement of my hips. I read somewhere that humans find vampires attractive in the same way that the most beautiful and brightly colored flowers are the most deadly… I just can't remember if I read that in my mother's research or if it was something out of Twilight. Either way, I'm repeating that in my head and I don't feel as terrible for being as attracted to him as I am.

I can't help it, it's out of my hands. It's a predator's trick.

Cresting the stairs, I inhale that unique scent again as he comes to stand beside me. "There are quite a few rooms, but most of them haven't been lived-in in awhile. You can stay in my room, if you like." He gestures to the door just down the hall, on the right.

What I'd like is to get my phone back, find Bonnie, and go home. "Okay."

I have no choice in this. I'm being held against my will.

I follow him, hold my breath as he stands close to me and opens the door. I half-expect to find a coffin in place of the bed. I'd like to be able to blame the instant sense of ease that I feel on some kind of vampire decorating trick, but I know that's not possible – Stefan's room is cozy. The walls are a grey-blue, he has as many books on bookshelves as I do… maybe more. Trying my best to look calm and confident, I brush my hand over the light brown blanket, nearly wrinkle-less on his perfectly made bed.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" He asks, watching my hand, then my steps as I move to his unruly desktop. "I should show you the kitchen so you can get yourself something if you like."

I pick up a hardback book that was left open and flip it over to read the title on the spine: Jane Eyre. I roll my eyes but I'm not sure if it's because he's reading this Bronte novel or because he used those words again_. _"You keep saying that… if I like. I'm a prisoner."

Those green eyes of his narrow at the attitude in my tone, but he quickly returns to his neutral expression as he slips his hands into his pockets. "It's for your own safety. The less you know about all of this, about vampires, the better."

"For me? Or for you?" Again, I'm being crass, I just hate how attractive he is. I don't want to feel this strange comfort with Stefan. I don't want to _not_ be scared of him. He's a vampire! I should be terrified! That chest pressure I felt when he passed me at The Grille – that I still feel at this very moment, I'm mistaking it for magnetism.

As he considers his response, I remember my fear of Damon and I wonder why the vampire-trick didn't work for him.

"Both."

Fine. That's a straight enough answer I guess.

Sitting the book down, my eyes are on his desk though I'm not really looking at anything in particular, just trying to get my witts about me when he adds, "You can clean up your wound in the bathroom – everything you need can be found in the linen closet. I'm going to call Damon and make sure he took your friend home."

Bonnie. My throat tightens with fear. "Do you think he hurt her?"

Again, my expectations of him are wrong. He could have lied, he could have said something just to pacify me and keep me quiet. "I don't know." I can hear his reluctance to speak so honestly, but I'm thankful for it. It gives more weight to his promise of not hurting me. The surprise of hearing the truth brings my eyes to his, increasing the vibing through my chest and tingling in my fingertips. We're ten feet away from each other, but I swear to you his predator-tricks are incredibly strong as I feel a deep need to close the distance between us.

Thankfully, he turns away; pulling the door nearly shut before my voice stops him.

"I prefer Emily." I'm an idiot, I know – but I don't want him to leave me in here alone or maybe I just don't want this interaction to end with me being so bratty. It's not my fault; this desire for him to leave with a positive impression of me – it's all related to his vampire tricks, I'm sure of it. Giving a half smile at his now confused and furrowed brow, I say, "Bronte. Wuthering Heights is probably my favorite book of all time."

When he returns my smile and those green eyes of his squint in the slightest way, I can feel the muscles in my legs beginning to flex on their own and move me to him – he's beautiful in a way that I've never known beauty to be. Thankfully, my phone rings from the back pocket of his jeans and breaks our heavy gaze and the pulling-intensity.

"Ric?" He says, reading the caller-id on my phone.

"That's my dad, er step-dad." I explain – for some reason I don't want Stefan to think I have guys calling my phone at this late hour. I cross my arms over my chest tightly, aggravated with myself for caring.

I squeeze them tighter against me when Stefan brings my phone to me and I inhale his clean scent and can see the shades of green in his eyes and the heavy lashes surrounding them. "Tell him your spending the night with a friend."

He says it so softly, in such a kind, warm tone that I can't tell if he's asking or commanding. Either way, I take the phone and do as he said.

Ric doesn't push back or ask questions, happy that I'm making friends in our new town. I think he mentions something about the two of us going out for lunch with Jena and Jeremy, but I can't be sure and just give him a standard, "ok, see you tomorrow" as we hang up and I find myself still staring into Stefan's evergreen gaze as he looks down into my brown.

We stay like that for a bit and I can tell he's inspecting my face just as I am his; all the while my entire body is beginning to buzz with that frequency.

I feel like an idiot when I push my phone against his chest in an effort to break the pull he has on me. Frowning, he looks down at the end of the phone against him, then shakes his head as he steps back. "Keep it."

I got what I wanted – he's leaving, moving away from me, nearly to the door and my body is relaxing, but I hate the thought of him going, of losing that unique feeling. "Aren't you afraid I'll call Sheriff Forbes?" I try in a light tone in hopes that he stays way over there, but stays nonetheless.

Giving a shrug, he smiles and says, "I trust you." as he turns and leaves me frustrated.

XXXXXXX

He wasn't kidding – everything I needed to clean up the bite on my neck was in his bathroom. I don't know why I found that so weird. I'm sure all the girls he brings home end up needing to be bandaged.

After Stefan left and I spent a long while berating myself for falling prey to his vampire-tricks, I cleaned up the dry blood on my neck and chest and I'm sitting at his desk and flipping through my phone.

He trusts me.

How stupid. I should call Ric and have him come over here with his bag of vampire weapons and get me out of here! Stefan didn't even blindfold me when he brought me to his home! I could tell Ric or Sherriff Forbes exact directions…

Stefan trusts me.

Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jean skirt, knowing full well that by not calling for my rescue I'm trusting him too.

The house is dead silent. Literally, soundless. It doesn't take but a moment for me to spot an old record player on one of the many bookshelves lining the walls of Stefan's bedroom. The shelves above and below the 49 are full to the brim with records. I spot The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Etta James, U2, BB King, and The Clash before deciding that these vinyl records are much older than me – then flipping the record player to 'on' and setting the needle down on the record already on the spindle. It doesn't take me long to place the song – Living on a Prayer.

"So, vampires like Bon Jovi. Who knew?" I say aloud as I take a seat on his bed only because there's no one around and I'm feeling really lonely.

I consider flipping through my Twitter app or pulling up a book to read on my phone, but I'm surrounded by books and decide to read one of them. I don't even have to get up as there are two books stacked on the bedside table.

Grabbing the one on top, I open it to the ribbon-marked place, no more than a third of the way through it's thickness and freeze when I find the jagged handwriting across the page.

It's his journal.

Stefan, the chivalrous vampire with his tricky ways keeps a journal. I close it almost immediately, but the angry woman being held prisoner by a vampire is feeling crude and I open it again in a matter of less than ten seconds – telling myself that there is no protocol here. Nothing to feel guilty about! He's kidnapped me!

I've almost convinced myself that I can read it, that I SHOULD read it – maybe it will help me learn more about my warden – when I hear Bonnie's laugh just outside the door and I'm moments away from being caught red-handed.

**MORE TO COME**

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	4. Chapter 4

**The Variable of Choice – Chapter 4**  
-STEFAN-

When I open the door and find her doe-eyed, staring back at me from the edge of my bed with my open journal in her hands, I'm almost taken all the way back to 1864; it takes a moment for my mind to find its place back in the present.

She's an exact replica of Katherine… the girl that I believed I loved. The girl that I believed was perfect and all-consuming and that I spent weeks dreaming of one day making my wife – Soon after those daydreams turned into long nights shared in my bed, secret meetings in the stables, stolen kisses while escorting her into town, I learned that the woman I thought I knew was something I could've never imagined. Katherine was my first of many things, but most notably, she's the vampire that turned Damon and I. Katherine is, and always will be the girl I was victimized by and compelled by - she destroyed my entire world. The love I once had for Katherine is now a thorny and painful hatred that I can't shake.

From the auburn tint of her long, dark hair under direct light to the same doe-eyed, disarming expression on her face when I catch her snooping through my things – she's a mirror image… the resemblance is strangely off-putting. Yet, somehow I know that like a mirror image she and Katherine are alike and completely opposite at the same time.

I have mixed emotions, conflicting thoughts about the girl on my bed... part of me, the usually rational side of me is saying, _protect her. Keep her safe. Don't let Damon near her. Make her yours. I want her. I want her to want me. _I can see the innocence in her wide, dark eyes. I can feel something, something unexplainable... unrecognizable.

But there's a voice in the back of my mind... I think it's my father's voice, maybe – whispering reminders of Katherine and what she did to me and my family. A quiet murmur that's blurring the lines of reality and secretly wonders if the girl should pay for Katherine's transgressions simply because of her resemblance. I know it's wrong. I do. I can tell you with full-confidence that I will let no harm come to this girl, but I see the psychological need behind Damon wanting to kill her. A strange form of justice against Katherine a hundred and fifty years after she burned to death.

Bonnie, now compelled to accept us as vampires, goes directly to her and is carrying on about her bite mark while the girl and I stare one another down – I can't tell if the tension between us is a shared fear of one another or something different, something much more dangerous between a vampire like me and a girl like her…

Doing her best to look nonchalant as she closes my journal and breaks our stare, I figure it's a decent mixture of both and quickly close the door, leaving them in my bedroom before either temptation grows any stronger in my body- I can still smell her blood. Even with the door closed. And I can still picture her sitting on the bed, _my bed_, with her bare legs and bare shoulders and those eyes.

I'm lost in my own mind – picturing her, or maybe Katherine, honestly I can't tell which I'm imagining holding against my body when Damon and Lexi crest the staircase and the sight of them drags me back to reality.

Simultaneously, Lexi and I speak the same sentence – "What are you doing!?"

She's speaking to me, wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

I'm speaking to Damon, furrowed brow and tight neck.

I ignore my only friend and move to Damon in some feral attempt at keeping him from getting closer to the girl. Even as I step up to him in this threatening manor – chest to chest, staring my brother down – I know my urge to keep the girl safe is unfounded and groundless. But it's a strong urge, this burning need to keep her safe – after more than a hundred years of fighting off the urge to feed, to kill, I know my body and it's desires pretty well… My want to keep her safe is useless to fight or ignore and I know it.

After the life I've lived, the things I've done, my ability to see myself clearly is one of the few pieces of myself that I take pride in.

"Whoa." Damon snickers, dramatically rolling his eyes as he steps around me and strides to his bedroom door – I let him go only because he's moving away from my bedroom, further away from the girl. "You're getting really good at the whole tough guy, I'm a vampire act, little brother. You almost scared me there…" Stepping in his room, he does his eyebrow thing that always goes all over me and adds just before the door shuts, "Almost."

Lexi and I stand still, quiet – both of us listening to my depraved vampire brother kick off his boots, move across the hardwood of his bedroom and into the attached bath. Once the water starts and we catch the jingle of his belt our cautious stance is finally broken by the slight turning of our faces towards one another – mine still angry and stern and Lexi's shocked expression quickly returning to her heart-shaped face.

My sensitive ears pick up Living on a Prayer and Bonnie laughing, I hear the smile in her voice when she says something about Damon's blue eyes – the girl responds with an unenthusiastic, _yea._ Adding, "The other one, his brother, he's –"

I can't hear what the girl says about me when Lexi interrupts, "So what, we aren't going to talk about the Katherine look-a-like you and your psycho case brother are holding hostage?"

Hearing it outloud, the situation spelled out in painful and blunt honesty, makes my gut knot up… or maybe I'm hungry. Both probably.

In a loud whisper, I push my reasoning through tight lips and a guilty frown. "He was going to kill her. What choice did I have?"

Lexi does that thing she does when she's calling me out, declaring my words as bullshit – pursing her lips together and pushing them to the side a bit – her left eyebrow slightly cocked upwards. I've known her so long now that she doesn't even need to speak for me to get her message.

I respond in a frustrated tone, my whisper a bit louder than before. "I swear, I didn't know… I hadn't seen her."

"This is all bad. Very bad, Stefan." Lexi's expression straightens up – I guess she hears the honesty in my voice. Still, she's got her hands on her hips and her neck wiggling a bit as she speaks. "Coming back here was a bad idea. Pairing up with Damon ,bad idea – agreeing to help him, Bad. Idea! Stefan, you've got to get out here before you're right back in Mystic Falls circa 1864."

I know she means this as a warning…but not all of 1864 was a nightmare. The year began with an easy winter and my father's logging company – the family business that I was being prepped to take over – was able to begin work sooner than expected thanks to an early thaw. By spring, I was looking forward to traveling north for some time at the University and Damon had left to fight the war. The first truly warm day – the kind of warmth that lets the honeysuckle bloom and gives the breeze that comforting effect when it touches over-heated skin – that was the day I laid eyes on Katherine Pierce.

I remember the day so well… with almost as much detail as when I recall the scent of her hair and the softness of her hand in mine. When I feel her name tracing across my tongue – threatening to break from my lips – I force them into a tight, straight line. Press my teeth into the flesh of my bottom lip so hard that my eyes water a bit.

There is something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling nothing but cold.

Lexi places her hand on my arm and my muscles flinch from her touch. She sighs at the sight of me like I'm a pound puppy or an injured child. I'm her hopeless cause… her never sufficed need to save me is radiating from her round eyes when she says, "Tell me you have a plan to get out of this before we're both staked in the square."

-Elena-

Don't ask me how, but Bonnie has actually fallen asleep! She's comfortably laying across Stefan's bed with her head resting on a make shift pillow made by wadding up the corner of the comforter, while I'm still surprised by her light attitude about her deal she made with Damon and sitting on the floor with my back to the footboard and my eyes on the closed door.

The mind control thing, compulsion, it must be very strong… more potent than any narcotic or pharmaceutical that I've ever experienced. I've known Bonnie since I was seven years old – that's the first summer I spent with Jeremy and Aunt Miranda and Uncle Grayson. It was my first sleepover… I can still see seven year old Bonnie with her wild curly hair, hunkered down on the couch with tiny hands covering her eyes as the other girls and I watched some horror flick that a teenaged Aunt Jena snuck in for us.

Bonnie's not the kind of girl to make deals with vampires.

I know her grandmother swears that they come from a line of witches, but Bonnie has never really bought into that story... it's always been a joke for her, something to laugh about and use as an ice-breaker conversation. So yea, I'm shocked by the news that Damon Salvatore is going to help her _access_ her _powers_. Funny thing, when I asked what he was getting out of their deal, Bonnie fell silent... my lips purse into a straight line as I wonder if he hasn't told her his required payment for his help or if he's compelled her to keep her mouth shut.

Either way, this is bad.

When I realize that I'll soon be oblivious to all this – the danger and the supernatural element of Mystic Falls, my hand moves on it's own and my fingers gently touch the scabbing puncture holes at the curve of my neck. I'm trying to calculate how long I have before Stefan, the warden vampire, looks into my eyes and steals away my memories when the door opens and Lexi the new bartender strides into the room like she owns the place, her long blonde hair swooshing side to side is keeping time with her steps.

Raising her eyebrows, she gives a wide _how ya doin' kid? _smile as I move to my feet. "I brought you some clothes – something for you two to sleep in."

Lexi sits two small stacks of folded clothing on the desk and takes a pause, her hands splayed open ontop of the folded fabric and her eyes straight ahead.

The curl in my hair is beginning to fall out, leaving my naturally straight hair hanging like ropes from my head. Something about the slick as ice sunny blonde hair laying in a perfect sheet down her back reminds me I must look like a mess. "Are they… I mean," Using my fingers, I slip my hair behind my ears as I try to pick out the right words. "Is he keeping you here against your will, too?"

Pivoting in place, Lexi leans against the desk top and crosses her arms over chest, her face telling me she's confused. I figure she must be compelled like Bonnie so I start to go into more depth, "I can help you. My da-… I mean, my friend has this herb that can stop the mind control."

"Oh sweetie…" Lexi gives me a friendly, amused smile just about the time that the needle comes to a scrapping stop and falls from the Bon Jovi record. "I'm twice their age."

I feel my eyes double – maybe triple in size as I look at her, surprised. She's the bartender at The Grille. She looks to be a few years older than me. She's wearing a pair of boots that I've been dying to buy and her nails are painted a tangerine… I realize my mouth is gaping open a bit and pull my bottom lip up to meet the top one. "Not what you expected?" Lexi asks as I rudely inspect her from the saddle-brown Nicole boots to professionally applied eyelash extensions. I don't say it out loud, but I know my expression is screaming _but you look so normal!_

"Everything you've read and seen in those awful movies about vampires, forget it. Most of it's just a lot of dramatization and B.S." Pulling the length of her hair over one shoulder, Lexi speaks to me like she's giving me a crash course on vampirism. It's quick and simple, a cliff-notes lecture in a light tone of voice as Lexi focuses on braiding her hair. By the end of the short education on vampires I've learned that they are ten times stronger than humans, have enhance hearing, a sixth-sense to help with hunting, and somehow, the fear that had been coursing through my veins since I spotted Damon sitting at my table with Bonnie has nearly disappeared.

She finishes up her long, loose, side-braid in time with the end of her vampire-101 course and she looks up from her finished braid like she's waiting on me to ask questions or take notes.

I only have one question.

"But it's true that you drink blood to survive?" Again, I'm crass – a rude tone in my voice just like how I'd spoken to Stefan. And again, I regret it. I don't know why I care. I don't know why I had to soften the end of my interaction with Stefan and I don't know why I want Lexi to like me. It won't be long before I've _dried out_ and I'll be ignorant to their existence.

Lexi shrugs, playing it off as if it's not a big deal. "That is true. But it doesn't mean we have to kill… we need blood for nourishment, to survive, but it doesn't have to be some horror-flick attack."

Her easy tone of voice angers me, really digs into me and my rude tone is just barely under the surface when I say, "How can you sound so accepting with the fact that vampires feed from humans? You make it sound like killing the person is just a side-effect, or an option to add to your meal?"

"You're letting your imagination add inflections to my words." Lexi says calmly, like maybe she's had this kind of conversation before and my reaction is par for course.

I chuckle – it's meant to be sarcastic but honestly, this whole situation is just so impossible, completely ridiculous that the laugh isn't false. "I was attacked. Damon. Bit. Me." I say in a choppy tone as I point to my neck wound. "I'm not imagining being kidnapped by two – ah, make that _three_ vampires and having my friend compelled into believing she's a witch."

Lexi's eyes cut to Bonnie, still sleeping, then back to me. "The majority of vampires are not like that. We don't attack and bite and kill. Otherwise we'd all be dead and rotting. Personally, I haven't taken a life in more than two-hundred years. But just like how there are a handful of humans who are psycho, our race has its fair share, as well."

I exhale loudly as her words settle in my ears, making sense in a senseless situation. Vampires and witches and two-hundred years and psychos. "Should I be worried? About Damon, I mean?"

Again, Lexi shrugs and gives me that same sorrowful smile. "I think you should probably keep your doors and windows locked."

I laugh – frustrated with this whole ordeal. "Like that would make a difference. I thought you said vampires are super-human strong?"

"True. But nature has its way of keeping us in our place." My eyebrows raise, I nearly beg her to continue with my expression alone. "Vampire's have to be invited into your home. It's like a loop-hole. A way to protect the innocent." I'm thinking about what she's said, the irony of it – wondering how it works and if I'll ever wrap my mind around all of this when Lexi takes a stack of clothing from the desk top and holds it out to me, adding in a half-joking tone "Besides, I don't think Stefan will let him get close enough to you." A tiny, barely there pause before she continues doesn't give me the necessary time to wonder about what that means, but I feel my lips threaten to curve into a smile. "Here. You can take a shower if you want. There are towels in his bathroom and shampoo and stuff, but if you want something more girly you can use any of my things – it's all in my room. Down the hall, second door on the right."

Taking the change of clothes from her, Lexi gives me another friendly smile and I watch her leave while I keep myself from glowing from the thought of Stefan protecting me... my own personal white knight.

-Damon-

I've spent most of the night trying to put my plan on a play-by-play. Hoping to get the timing right by going over each and every detail with a fine-tooth comb, but you see, the problem with working in the supernatural element is that nothings every really set in stone – count on many problems and expect nothing to go smoothly. Witches and their tricky witchcraft.

Maybe an hour after I finally fell asleep, my eyelids slide open when I hear Stefan's boots slapping on the floor and the door to my bedroom being pressed shut. I know it's Stefan because of the rhythem of his steps and the gentle, purposeful movements that glide like smooth glass. Last time I saw my little brother he was starting a fifteen year binge – this guy, standing next to my bed with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, waiting for me to give in and stop acting like I'm asleep, this guy is a one-eighty. Totally opposite. Close to the brother I grew up, light years away from the vampire that forced me to turn. When I reach over to the bedside lamp, illuminating the room and his brooding face, I cant stop the snarl from coming to my mouth when I see him.

He disgusts me.

I wonder if he knows that I'm not fooled? Big brothers know their little brothers… this stoic version of Stefan is bullshit. When he turned… when we turned, we changed. We're not the same as we used to be no matter how good of an act he's putting on.

"What?"

"Lexi says you're going to help Bonnie learn to use her witchcraft?" He asks, monotone. Broody face and broody voice.

I shrug, rest my head on my hands and don't bother getting out of bed or even sitting up.

"Come on, Damon. What's all of this about? You call me up and tell me you need a favor – never giving me any details. Then you shut me out and hardly even speak to me other than when you try to push me to feed. It's been two weeks. Tell me what we're doing or I'm leaving. Tonight."

My eyes are closed as I try and play off the tension between us, but I can sense his anger… cool-headed, easy going Stefan is having trouble keeping up his show. Using my best sarcastic tone, I sigh "What can I say, brother? I'm a giver. I just want to help."

He huffs. Half laugh, half frustrated sigh. I open my eyes wide with pretend shock, a false look of offense on my face. When I can't hold it, I crack a smile and chuckle a bit.

Stefan pivots, moving to the door and shaking his head with aggravation – God he's got the same _you're such a disappointment, Damon_ mannerisms as our father. "Wait." I groan, pushing myself into a seated position against the headboard. I have to say it again before Stefan stops, his hand on the door knob for a quick exit just incase I'm fucking with him. I consider it – cracking a joke –but Stefan's face has a hopefully expression that I remember from when we were kids… when I'd let him play with my toys or come with me to the river to go fishing.

"She looks just like her." I hate how sincere my voice sounds. The hope on Stefan's face is quickly suffocated by a much more angry expression. But after a moment of the two of us sharing an unfocused gaze and our minds replaying what I guess are similar memories of Katherine, he gives a curt nod of his head. "Do you realize it's been a hundred and fifty years? In just a couple of days."

After a long moment of silence, Stefan's face scrunched up and brow low, he lies when he says, "No, I didn't."

His lying pisses me off. It's one thing that I had to share Katherine with my little brother, that I wasn't enough for her, but his lying seems disrespectful in some way – as if he cared so little for her that he hasn't even been bothered by her absence. "Really? So what is it you're writing about in those diaries of yours?"

Stefan's eyes cut away from me for a moment – he's never been good at lying, even worse at being called out for it. "So what? Why do you care? Why would we want to remember that?"

I stand, stretching in a dramatic fashion so he can see that human blood does more than make you feel invincible… Stefan's scrawny on his animal diet, very thin. "Do you know what a doppelganger is?"

-Elena-

Sleeping is not an option. Not when I know what I know. Not when my mother's murderer is napping across the hall and his brother is keeping me hostage. But I've been laying here and trying not to read through his journal and wondering why Damon would want to help Bonnie become a witch when I hear that soft, low voice of his – I catch it in the middle of a sentence, the word 'doppelganger' stealing my attention away from my crazed imagination.

I know the word.

Isobel wrote about a doppelganger over and over. On hundreds of pages and in a hundred contexts but I never figured out what she was talking about… still I'd only come across the word 'doppelganger' in my mother's research, so when I hear Stefan say it, my heavy eyes fly open and I sit up from where I'd been laying on the floor. Like a cat, I move lightly on all fours to the exit door of his room. Pressing my ear against the dark wood and trying to hear their conversation.

Again, I catch Stefan in the middle of a sentence, but this time he sounds less inquisitive and more frustrated. "… wasn't real, Damon. None of it! What we thought we felt for her – she compelled us so she could feed off of us and play us against one another, don't you see that?"

Damon laughs arrogantly. "Katherine never compelled me."

"Yes, she did! Don't you remember? I thought I loved her too, but when we woke up by the creek with Emily I remembered everything she'd compelled me to forget… to accept! She ruined us, Damon!"

Louder, angrier, Damon's voice is rough, "I loved her. Katherine loved me. I. Was. Never. Compelled."

…Silence…

I'm imagining Damon and Stefan staring one another down – cold lightening blue against warm emerald green – as I try to play out what I'm hearing. I knew from Isobel's research that Damon and Katherine were lovers, but it sounds like there may have been a triangle romance between the three of them. I'm both intrigued by the scandal and disgusted by the sharing – apparently forced onto Stefan but welcomed by Damon.

What kind of girl pits brothers against one another?

"I love her, Stefan. And with the Bennett witch and the doppelganger, I'm going to bring her back."

-Stefan-

"She's dead, Damon. She burned in Fell's church with the rest of them." Even as I spell out the facts that we already know, he's looking back at me with bright eyes and a proud smile – thrilled by my shocked expression to the bomb he's dropped on me. "It's impossible."

He rolls his eyes, does that eyebrow thing. "Look around, Stefan. We're vampires! There's a witch in your bedroom and her best friend is a supernatural glitch – it's all impossible!"

I swallow hard – I've started pacing in a short, half-circle without realizing it. I don't want her back. I don't want her to be saved or resurrected or whatever Damon is planning when he says _bring her back._ I hate her. With every memory slipping through my minds eye, my execration for her grows by leaps and bounds.

It takes me less than half a minute to decide that I will stop Damon… but to stop him, I've got to know what he's doing. "How?" I ask, my voice forced into a calmed tone. "What do we have to do?"

"_We_ don't have to do anything, baby bro. Leave the planning and the scheming to me." He replies in a coy tone, knowing how I hate being in the dark.

Damon puts his shirt on, fiddles through a drawer until he finds a pair of pants while I contemplate a response. "What do you need me to do, brother?"

My sentimental use of how we used to address each other – the way we did when we were kids, still brothers and not just siblings – it works as I hoped it would. Damon pauses for a moment and though he's facing away from me, I can feel him relax a bit, drop his guard in just the slightest way.

"So you're going to help me?"

It should bother me that my own brother doesn't trust me, but he's right in his unease – I'm doing my best to fool him. It's working.

"I'll do anything you need."

Damon pivots on his bare feet and once again my mind is lost in memories of my life before Katherine – the look on his face, I've seen it a thousand times… hopeful, happy, excited – the Damon Salvatore that existed before Katherine pummeled us into fractured pieces. His telling expression doesn't last long – just as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced with his usual smug face as he begins.

"Did you know she was running? She'd been on the run for hundreds of years." I almost say, _Katherine and I didn't do a whole lot of talking _– but shake my head _no_ instead. "That's why she kept a Bennett witch as her hand-maid. Emily Bennett helped keep her off of the grid and used some kind of spell to keep a tracer on the person hunting her."

"Who was it?"

Damon shrugs, "She'd never say. But that's beside the point… what I'm getting at is when I found out that the founders took her, I went to Emily and she used her witchy-juju to save Katherine." I know I look confused, my forehead is deeply wrinkled and I have a pounding headache. "She's in a tomb below the church – no fire, no death. Desiccated and locked under there for exactly a hundred and fifty years until a Bennett witch can free her."

I hear Damon's words in my head - _it's been a hundred and fifty years - In just a couple of days_

"That explains the witch – but why the other girl?"

Damon breaks his eye contact with me when I ask and I immediately get the feeling that he's not telling me everything –like he's lying when he says, "Just a play toy until I can get Katherine out."

Still, I don't like his response. That voice in my head is chanting it's mantra _Protect her. Don't let Damon near her. Make her yours. Protect her. Don't let Damon near her. Make her yours. Don't let Damon near her. Make her yours. Make her yours. Make her yours. Make her yours. Make her yours. Make her yours._

I've been quiet for a long moment, the silent words too loud in my head for me to be able to think clearly, but Damon seems to have taken my lack of response as me calling his bluff – he continues with a heavy sigh. "Don't get all bent out of shape about this, brother, but I need the doppelganger to help her with whoever she's running from."

_Protect her. Don't let Damon near her._

"What do you mean?" I ask, nonchalantly returning to the door of his bedroom – my hand on the brass doorknob in case he tries to slip past me and get the girl… the _doppelganger._

"You remember Emily, right?" Damon doesn't seem to notice my defensive stance or the overwhelming amount of tension weighing heavily on my body. Very causally, comfortable with me, he messes with his shabby hair in the mirror as he speaks to me from his bathroom. "How she spoke in code – just really weird… I didn't get a whole lot of information from her or Katherine about why she was running or who she was running from, but I was able to decipher Emily's strange way of speaking enough to figure out that Katherine became a vampire because someone needed her human blood – years later I'm chatting it up with this hot little vampire-lover out of North… no, Sou – I dunno, one of the Carolina's and that's when I learn about the doppelganger blood curse. Of course I think it's bullshit – I mean, seriously, Katherine was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen… no way there could be two. That is until I find little Gilbert hiding from some meathead guy at a party. I thought she was Katherine… just like I'm sure you did."

I didn't. Not for a second…

"Anyway, I quickly put two and two together – compel her to forget me, then head out to find the girl that told me about the curse."

"And?" I ask, hanging by a thread.

"And nothing. I haven't found her, yet. I'm still looking, but in a couple of days Katherine will be released and she can tell me."

Hearing all of this, knowing that Damon's plan of saving Katherine is dependent on the blood of the girl that I can't help but want to protect, it's resonating in my body – like an electric current setting my nerves on edge. "So what is my part in this?" I ask, deciding that once I finish up this conversation with Damon, I'm taking the girl, leaving the witch. _Protect her. Don't let Damon near her._

Sitting on his bed, Damon pulls on his boots, then stands and comes to me, tapping me in the middle of my chest as he speaks. "You're the babysitter." I move back just enough that he stops the poking – it's enraging me. "I'm no good at playing human and I need someone by her side at all times – keeping tabs and keeping her safe until Katherine and I can line up the handover. I'll compel her, send her home and this will all be over with in a couple of days" I exhale loudly, realizing I need to make my escape with the girl soon – now. Damon must take it as frustration with being tied up in his plan for longer than expected. "What's 72 hours, Stefan? Before you know it, you and you're Bloodaholic's Anonomous coach will be taking off into the sunset and writing in your diary about losing Katherine to your big brother."

Losing Katherine. No one has ever had Katherine – not Damon, not me… no one. Katherine is the kind of woman that has you.

"Fine." My tone is curt, "Like I said, whatever you need." I lie looking right into my brothers eyes.

Damon nods and we both turn – him back to his room and me to the door – the electric vibe in my body increasing to a fever pitch when I open the door and find her doe-eyed, frowning up at me and wearing some of Lexi's clothes.

"I can help." She says, her voice soft, melodic to my ears. "You don't have to compel me. I _want _to help."

"What? No." The words slip from my mouth instinctually.

"The woman from North Carolina, that's my mother." I watch her lips form the words, my ears filled by the sound of her nervous heart beat and that chanting about making her mine. "I'll help you. I'll do whatever you need if you'll help me find her." My head is already shaking no. I can feel Damon come closer to me, to her, to us. I don't like his proximity and step to the side to block his view. When I open my mouth to try telling her no in a more forceful tone, she breaks my resolve with the saying of my name and a pleading in her eyes that shatters my resistance. "Stefan, please?"

My gaze moves from her mouth to her near-black eyes, then back to her lips… I know myself pretty well – I step aside and let her into Damon's room as I come to the realization that there's nothing in this world I wouldn't give her, just to hear my name from her lips once more.

*****MORE TO COME*****

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